


How to Steal a Time Machine

by iSaphura



Category: Doctor Who, Lupin III
Genre: Add tags as I think of them, Crossover, Gen, Heist, No Beta, oh boy here we go - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iSaphura/pseuds/iSaphura
Summary: Lupin and his gang are hired to steal a blue box, but things aren't exactly what they seem.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here we go. You're going to have to be patient with me, I have scenes of this fic written out but I need to connect them all together. But I need to get something out so I might as well start with this one. I apologize if anyone seems a bit OOC. Idk I need a kick in the butt to get this thing going so might as well post it, right? Let me know what you think!

Lupin the Third was always impressed when someone went through the trouble of trying to hire him for three reasons. The first was he wasn’t exactly an easy man to track down. Sure there were certain channels one could go through to contact him, but those were few in number and not exactly public knowledge, not to mention not 100% reliable. He was constantly on the move, jumping from one job to the next, city after city, country to country. His nomadic lifestyle was part of the reason Inspector Zenigata or any kind of law enforcement had a hard time pinning him down. He didn’t exactly have a stable mailing address, and he went through phone numbers like Jigen went through packs of cigarettes.

The second reason was he didn’t come cheap. Lupin was a professional and demanded to be paid as such. He also had a crew who needed to be paid. There were upfront costs, equipment costs, labor costs, travel costs, and, of course, a final cut. If you wanted the best, you had to pay for it. Very few could afford Lupin the Third.

And thirdly, he _was_ Lupin the Third. He was unpredictable, a loose cannon. Anything and everything could happen when he and his crew were involved, and one couldn’t exactly take out insurance for any collateral damage he caused. Lupin and his crew were an insurance company’s worst nightmare. They were criminals, after all. Nobody wanted that kind of liability.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t accept the occasional commission. Sometimes they could be fun.

So when a middle-aged, mid-level accounting clerk showed up at the doorstep of the London flat Lupin, Goemon, and Jigen were staying at asking for Lupin to meet with his master and giving them a piece of paper with a time and an address, Lupin was more than intrigued. After some deliberating, and sending Goemon out to shadow the man and finding he was nothing more than an office clerk, some more deliberating, and a two-hour car ride, the three thieves found themselves standing outside of a rather dilapidated old English estate that would have been called “handsome” or “stately” some forty years earlier. Their knock on the door was answered, and they were ushered inside to the study where they were told the master would be with them shortly.

Thus how Lupin the Third came to be sitting across from a man who had purposefully and successfully sought him out with the intention to hire him, was willing to pay top dollar – or pound in this case – for his services, and was comfortable with any repercussions that might arise from such an arrangement.

The man across the table could be classified in the “tall, dark, and handsome” category with “mysterious and slightly menacing” entered in the box marked Other. His beard was graying around the mouth, as was his hair around his temples. He wore a black suit, but not the kind worn by the shady government type. His was luxurious and perfectly tailored, with no expense spared. The only colors other than black were his white shirt, a dark maroon tie and matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. He wore a pair of black leather gloves which seemed odd, but these rich types all had their quirks.

Jigen had already asked for the name of his tailor, which the man was gracious enough to supply him with.

“So let me get this straight,” Lupin said. “You want us to steal a box?”

“Correct,” the man in black replied. He returned his glass of brandy to the table. Lupin’s glass remained untouched, as did Jigen’s. Goemon had politely refused any offers of a drink, even after the man produced a rather rare and expensive bottle of sake. “It is a rather large box located in a well-guarded facility, but you monsieur, have a reputation for accomplishing unconventional jobs and come highly recommended.”

“Why thank you.” Lupin folded his hands behind his head and leaned back. “So what makes this box so special? If it were just the contents you wouldn’t be asking for the container as well.”

“The contents and container, in this case, are a package deal,” the man in black said. “Besides, you would be quite unable to open this box, let alone remove the contents. In fact, I’d be quite impressed if you even managed to damage it in some way.” He noticed Lupin and Goemon both reacting to his comment and added, “Please, do not take that as a challenge, gentlemen, I will not pay full price for damaged goods.”

Lupin wiped the growing grin from his face, and Goemon loosened his grip on Zantetsuken. Jigen allowed himself a smirk. No doubt, if they took this job, Goemon would try at least once to cut the thing.

“This is where the box is being held.” The man in black picked up a tube of paper and unrolled it. “The box I require is located in the research lab in the east wing on the second floor.”

Jigen leaned over to get a good look as Lupin whistled. “Government facility, you weren’t kidding about the place being well guarded.”

“I am willing to pay any extra costs this might accrue.”

“Good because the price of business just went up.” Lupin looked at his companions. “You fellas okay with that?”

Goemon hummed his approval. Jigen frowned at the four letters that came before “UK Headquarters”. “U, N, I, T. Who names their military branch UNIT?”

“They are not part of the British military complex, though they often work alongside them,” the man in black explained. “UNIT is under the direct authority of the UN.”

“It stands for United Nations Intelligence Taskforce,” Lupin added. “It’s a security and scientific organization, but rumors about its real purpose range from counter-terrorism to extraterrestrial to supernatural. Not MI6 or CIA, but just as mysterious.”

The man in black raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed, monsieur Lupin. Few people know of UNIT’s existence, let alone what it might do.”

Lupin smiled and shrugged. “I try to know a little bit about everything. So you only want a box located in the research labs in the east wing? Nothing else? A place like this is bound to have some fun stuff.”

“That is it.” The man in black nodded. “Though if you see anything of interest to you, you may take it so long as it does not impact our agreement.”

“Just how big is this box?” Jigen asked.

“Excellent question, Mr. Jigen!” The man sounded like an elementary school teacher praising one of their students. “It’s size is part of the reason I wished to hire you, monsieur Lupin, as it would normally pose a challenge to any run-of-the-mill thief. This is the box in question.”

He handed a photograph to Lupin. The thief laughed. “You want us to steal a police box?”

“Amusing, I know,” the man in black said. “However it is a unique police box that is in no way affiliated with the Metropolitan Police. Moving it will require this.” He placed a small device on the table and slid it towards Lupin. It was about the size of a coffee mug but square in shape, with an extended base and several lights sticking out of the top

“Attach this to the box,” the man explained as Lupin picked the device up. “Without it, I’m afraid you would be quite incapable of moving it. Also, this box is quite useless to you, monsieur Lupin. You will be unable to find a buyer for it other than myself and the current owner; which I assure you I can pay much more handsomely for it than he can.”

“Understood,” Lupin replied. “Enough about the job, let’s talk about payment.”

This was the point where things had the possibility of going south. Money talk always made Jigen’s trigger finger itch; it was a tic he had picked up during his days with various mob groups. When the bosses started talking money, there was always the possibility that someone was going to gain an extra hole in their body where one had no right to be.

The man across the table didn’t appear to be armed, and the only other person they had seen so far was the man who let them in, but it was entirely possible that they were covered from several different angles. Jigen had identified four possible spots someone with a gun could hide when they walked in, no doubt Lupin and Goemon located a few more. They had come this far, so they pretty much had to agree to the deal and take the money if they wanted to get out of this alive.

Or at least relatively unscathed.

The man in black nodded. “Of course. I have taken the liberty of estimating your required compensation and have procured a down payment for you.”

Behind Lupin, Goemon stiffened slightly as the man reached under the table, only to relax back into a neutral stance as the man placed a briefcase on the table and slid it over. Lupin caught it and popped the locks allowing the lid to snap open. Jigen sat up and let out a low whistle. Goemon raised both eyebrows. Lupin grinned like a maniac and rubbed his hands together.

“Five million pounds sterling, in cash, consisting of unmarked and non-sequential notes,” the man in black said. “You may inspect them. If this amount is unsatisfactory, I can have further funds secured in the morning, though it will take time to do so. If you wish for your compensation to be in a different currency, I will need extra time to exchange the funds.”

“Oh we’re fine with a couple a’ quid,” Lupin replied.

Lupin picked out two stacks of bills and handed one to Jigen. The two inspected their stacks of bills. Jigen flipped through his, enjoying the feel of crisp bills brushing along his fingers. The queen smiled at him on one side while some rather grumpy looking man in what was probably a wig judged him silently on the other. British money took itself too seriously, Jigen thought. At least Franklin looked like he was about to crack a joke or something. Jigen glanced at Lupin and nodded. He was no expert on pound sterling, but they certainly seemed legit to him. Lupin placed the two stacks back in the case, apparently satisfied with the amount and its authenticity.

“We accept your down payment,” he said, all business. “How shall we receive the rest?”

“Upon completion of the job and successful delivery in one week’s time, you will receive the remainder of your payment: a further £15,000,000,” the man in black said. “You will find a folder in the top of that briefcase containing a location and time for the exchange, along with a point of contact should anything go astray. Is this arrangement to your liking, Monsieur?”

The man in black and Lupin the Third seemed to enter into some sort of staring contest, trying to gain one last advantage over the other. Jigen shifted ever so slightly so that while it seemed he was moving into a more comfortable position, he was really making his gun slightly more accessible. Something about the man across the table was just wrong, far more wrong than any human being had the right to be. He felt a slight tremor run through Lupin just before the thief spoke.

“I’d say so.” Lupin grinned and closed the case before handing the whole thing to Goemon. He picked up his previously untouched glass of brandy. “Just one final question, before we seal the deal.”

“And that is?”

“What do we call you?”

The man in black’s face cracked a smile, one that held no joy. “You may call me the Master.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the other cast of characters...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: I've never actually written the Third Doctor/UNIT crew, so this is going to be interesting. Feedback is welcome.
> 
> I did say this was going to take a while...

One of the first lessons Captain Mike Yates learned when it came to the Doctor’s laboratory was: knock first or risk bodily harm. He had, as the Doctor put it, “barged” in last week and had spent part of the afternoon in the infirmary while the Doctor tried to explain to an exacerbated Brigadier why his newest officer was unable to feel his face. He later learned he had triggered the Doctor’s latest security device.  Lethbridge-Stewart had the Doctor dismantle the device, and not to set it up again or not use any chemical agents when doing so.

That was changed two days later when Sargent Benton ended up upside-down,  hanging from the ceiling with his legs caught up in what could only be described as a very elaborate snare .  From then on, the Doctor was not to install any more security devices, and a guard was posted outside the lab door.

Today, there was a new obstacle: a note posted to the door that read _Do Not Enter, Testing in Progress_ in large, capitalized, and underlined letters. Yates spent a few minutes just standing there, staring at the door, before deciding it was not in his best interest to return to the Brigadier saying there was a _Do Not Enter_ sign on the Doctor’s door.

“ Wouldn’t go in there if I were you, sir,” the unfortunate Private who was posted to guard duty said.

“Can’t be helped,” Yates replied with a shrug. “Brig’s orders.”

Yates made a point to knock loudly and wait for a response. When there was none, he carefully opened the door. The lab was relatively tidy for once; despite the Doctor’s best intentions it tended to lean towards organized chaos. Which it still was, with lab supplies and various apparatuses strewn about on lab benches except for one which was occupied by the Doctor’s assistant, Jo Grant. She had only been his assistant for a few weeks – they were both transferred to UNIT HQ at about the same time give or take a few days – but from what the Brigadier said, she was having a tremendously positive impact on the  temperamental scientific advisor.

Jo was currently hunched over the open benchtop, furiously tapping her pencil against the surface. Several sheets of paper were spread out in front of her.

“Hullo, Jo,” Yates said.

Jo nearly jumped out of her chair as she turned to glare at him. “Mike! Shush! I’m busy!  Did you not see the sign on the door? ”

Yates blinked. He still wasn’t used to her calling him by his first name. Though she was a fully qualified member of UNIT, Jo was one of the few people from a civilian background rather than  a military  one.  She was consistently a bright spot of color amid an otherwise army-fatigue-green sea, making a point to push the boundaries of what was considered “acceptable” dress.

“Sorry,” Yates whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Taking the Doctor’s test,” Jo hissed back. She looked around quickly before adding. “Do you know what Beer’s Law is?”

“I, uh,  beer before liquor never been sicker ?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not much help. What’s the test for?”

“The Doctor wanted to assess my scientific skills and knowledge,” Jo replied. “But half this stuff is beyond me.”

“ All of it is beyond me,” Yates said. “Listen, Jo, where’s the Doctor? The Brigadier wants to have a word with him.”

“He’s around, not sure where though,” Jo said. “I thought I heard the door just before you came in but…”

Jo and Yates jumped as an alarm clock started blaring. Jo moaned and buried her head in her arms while Yates shut it off. “I’ve failed! I barely got any of the answers and now I’m out of time!”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Yates said. “You can blame it all on me. I’m the blockhead military man who distracted you instead of acknowledging the sign on the door.”

Jo giggled and tidied up the test papers. “Thanks, Mike.”

“Captain Yates, did you not read the sign?”

As if he had appeared out of thin air, the Doctor now stood next to the blue police box. He was in his shirt-sleeves and in the process of rolling them back down. Yates caught a glimps e of what looked like a tattoo of some kind on the Doctor’s forearm before it was covered by the sleeve. The Doctor took his jacket from a nearby hook an d pulled it on.

“I did read it, Doctor,” Yates replied.

“So you chose to ignore it?”

“The Brigadier wanted to see you, sir. It sounded rather urgent.”

The Doctor frowned. “If it was that urgent he would have come himself.”

“He, ah, was preoccupied. He said it was something to do with a letter that came in the post.”

“He’s going through my mail?”

“It was addressed to both of you, from what I saw  of the envelope .”

“Well then he can deal with it,” the Doctor said. “How’d the test go, Jo?”

“Terribly,” Jo mumbled as she handed over the semi-completed test.

“Not to worry, I told you with was only to gauge what you know and what we’ll need to work on.” The Doctor flipped through some of the pages. “Besides, you were distracted by this block-headed military man.  Now then, Yates, what is this about a letter that’ s got the Brigadier all riled up?”

“ Came in the post half an hour ago,” Yates said. “All he told me was it said something about your TARDIS.”

“My TARDIS?” the Doctor said. “What about my TARDIS? She’s been behaving as of late,  and I haven’t been “misappropriating resources” as the Brigadier is fond of calling it …” He looked over at the blue police box sitting in the corner. The box just sat there. Yates didn’t understand why the Doctor had a police box in his lab, why it was called TARDIS, or why it was so important. The reasons were above his pay grade.

“Whatever it is, it’ s got the Brig worried,” Yates said.

“Well then, lead the way Captain Yates!” the Doctor said with gusto before leading the way to the Brigadier’s office.

Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart was having a very nice day up until about twenty minutes ago. Twenty minutes ago, the post arrived, and it included a rather interesting letter in a heavy cream-colored envelope addressed to “The Scientist in Lab 123 c/o Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart” in elegant, looping handwriting. As if the means of address weren’t interesting enough, it included his _middle_ name as if to show off. He had taken the executive decision to open the envelope, and immediately grabbed Captain Yates who was passing by and sent him to find the Doctor.

The letter inside was the last thing he needed. Well, second to last thing he needed. The last thing he needed was the phone call he had just finished. Apparently, an Interpol officer had received a similar letter and was on his way. He was in Paris at the moment, but judging from the announcement in the background of the call he was at the airport about to get on the next flight to London. He would be there by the end of the day. The Brigadier had barely gotten a word in edgewise before the man hung up.

The Brigadier had, on occasion worked with the ICPO before when one of their own investigations warranted it, but he preferred to keep the police out of UNIT matters. Outside influences – domestic or international in nature – only complicated his already complicated job. He had also heard of the letter’s sender, and had brushed him off as nothing he needed worry himself about. UNIT wasn’t exactly in the market for gems and fine art, the kinds of things Lupin the Third normally went after. What did worry him was that there had been some kind of security leak. The Doctor’s TARDIS wasn’t exactly public knowledge, or common knowledge to those in UNIT who didn’t need to know that the Brigadier’s newest scientific advisor was an exiled time-traveling alien who’s space-and-time machine looked like an old Metropolitan police box.

He’d be laughed out of his position if anyone found that out. Explaining how this Doctor was the same Doctor as the one mentioned in his reports regarding the Yetis and Cybermen would get him sent to a nuthouse.

There was a knock on his office door and a half-second pause before the Doctor stormed in, followed closely by Capt. Yates and Miss Grant.

“What’s this about my TARDIS, Brigadier?” the Doctor asked.

“See for yourself,” Lethbridge-Stewart handed over the letter. “I’ve already ordered an investigation into a possible security leak.”

The Doctor picked up the letter in question. It was made from high-quality card stock. Custom stationery with an odd little peanut-shaped caricature of a smiling face in the corner. The note was handwritten in an elegant, looping script.

“On 19 June, I shall stop by to pick up a blue box,” the Doctor read. “I would kindly request you have it ready for me. Sincerely, Lupin the Third.” He paused before blurting out, “Lupin the Third?!”

“The only blue box in this facility, other than a toolbox belonging to one of the machinists, is your TARDIS,” Lethbridge-Stewart said. “I just got off the phone with the Interpol officer assigned to the Lupin case, one Inspector Zenigata. He is currently in Paris but is now on his way and should be here by this evening. Meanwhile, we have three days until Lupin will make his move.”

“Why would a thief tell us when he is going to steal something?” Jo asked. “Wouldn’t that just make it harder to steal the object in question?”

“That is the point, Jo,” the Doctor said. “It is the MO of the Lupin family dating back to the original Arséne Lupin: announce the crime beforehand in order to up the challenge and make it more exciting. It seems the Third inherited the First’s taste for high stakes. Though...” The Doctor frowned.

“What is it?” the Brigadier asked.

“I’m not sure that I ever told his grandfather about my TARDIS,” the Doctor said. “Arséne was a good friend, but a thief through and through. A thief with a TARDIS is a dangerous proposition,” he added with a small smile.

“So then how does Lupin know about it?” Yates asked.

“That’s what I intend to find out,” the Brigadier said. “The possibilities are not many, but they aren’t pleasant. In the meantime, this facility is going to be on high alert. No one in or out without authorization.”

“This is a Lupin we are talking about, Brigadier,” the Doctor said. “Even if the boy only inherited half his grandfather’s skill, he will still be able to get past any security you put in place.”

“Then what do you suggest we do? Put out the welcome mat?”

“No, prepare all you like,” the Doctor said. “As I said, this is a Lupin. He must have very good reason to want my TARDIS, and I intend on finding out why. In the meantime, may I have that card, Brigadier? Perhaps I can find something on it.”

“Go ahead,” the Brigadier replied. “I was going to hand it over to the boys in forensics, but you might have better luck.”

“They would have destroyed it in the process,” the Doctor said. “And I need to give Miss Grant some more practical lab experience. This is the perfect opportunity.”

The Doctor led Jo out of the office, and the Brigadier sank back into his chair.

“Some days,” he said. “I wonder why I put up with the Doctor and his quirks.”

“Sir?” Yates asked.

The Brigadier looked up, but his eyes didn’t focus on anything in particular. It was like they were seeing something far away, or long ago. “But then I remember I owe him my life, as does every man, woman, and child in this country if not the world. A paltry art thief and con artist is no match for that.”

“What does an art thief want with the Doctor’s TARDIS?”

“What indeed, Captain." The Brigadier shook his head. "What indeed…”


End file.
